


Saving the Antichrist

by graywolf2010



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Assbutt, Character Death, Crowley Being Crowley, Death likes pizza, Demon!Dean, Established Relationship, Four Horsemen, Four Horsemen's rings, Heaven, Hell, I should take the tags seriously you say?, Implied Samifer, Interspecies Relationship(s), Lucifer's Cage, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Metatron Being a Dick, OC, Post-Season/Series 09, References to Sherlock, References to hell, Suicide, Team Free Will 2.0, Trials, Winged Castiel, Winged Lucifer, Wingfic, feels attack, heaven's jail, no you should take the tags seriously, references to doctor who, sensitive satan, this is not crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-15 18:36:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2239167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graywolf2010/pseuds/graywolf2010
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean, Sam, and Castiel find and rescue Jesse Turner, Ben Braeden, and Claire Novak from a demon infested factory, they get more than they bargained for. Demons who oppose Crowley's rule form armies, scrambling to get the Antichrist onto their respective side to gain the upper hand in the battle to conquer Hell. Meanwhile, Castiel's stolen grace is fading away quickly, and Dean struggles to gain control of his newfound demonic side. Can Team Free Will (along with some help) protect Jesse Turner long enough to slam the Gates of Hell forever (this time for real), locking away the warring demons forever?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Supernatural or any of the characters portrayed in this work (except for Tessa Winters, who appears briefly in chapter 5).

It all started out as a routine hunt. Just an ordinary, every day, demon hunt. That was before everything got complicated.  
Claire Novak was struggling to remain conscious. After being brutally beaten by the demons she and her friends were hunting, she could feel death taking ahold of her soul, coaxing it from her living consciousness. To think that it all had to end this way was almost unbearable, especially since Claire had never achieved her goal. The one goal that pushed her to get up in the morning. To eat. To drink. To hunt. To live. The goal of finding her father. 

The nightmare began before Claire was even a teenager. At twelve years old, she was happy and care free, living blindly without a clue as to what would happen in the next year alone. How her life would be uprooted. Torn apart. As the daughter of Jimmy and Amelia Novak, Claire was raised to be a devout Christian. It was when she was about eleven that she realized that, rather than believing what her parents had taught her to believe, she found it all impossible. The bible, a book of fairy tales, and God and his angels, no more existent than Santa Claus. For a year, the young girl delved into herself, trying to find the courage to tell her parents, but by the time she had, it was too late.  
Jimmy Novak had gone insane. Perhaps he had found out about Claire's beliefs and feared that she faced divine punishment, or that she had been corrupted. Perhaps the fear had driven him to hysteria, and the hysteria to insanity. And then, the insanity took control. Claire watched as her father claimed himself to be "chosen by an angel". But that was impossible. There were no such things. She later learnt that her father had gone so far as to plunge his hand into a pot of boiling water to prove that the angel was protecting him.  
The last thing she can remember her father saying to her before disappearing for a year marked what Claire believed to be true insanity. Confused and afraid for her father, the young girl found herself on her front porch, finding her father on the front walkway. She called out to him, silently pleading for him to respond lovingly and to regain mental stability. Instead, clad in a trench coat and a suit, with his hair ruffled, as if he'd just rolled out of bed, he turned to her with a confused expression on his face and tilted his head in an animalistic fashion. Claire watched, horrified, as he turned his back and gave his response. But when the man answered, his voice was low and gravelly, almost like a growl. At that moment, Claire knew that the man was no longer Jimmy Novak, but someone, or something, else. "I am not your father," the man claimed, before walking away. And then, he was gone.  
Claire truly believed that she had seen the last of her father, until he showed up on her doorstep a year later, claiming to have been possessed by the angel, Castiel. After he ate a meal with his family, Claire was beginning to believe that she really, truly had her father back. Then the demons attacked.  
The thirteen year old watched as her mother was possessed by a demon, while two men who called themselves Sam and Dean Winchester struggled to fight the demons off. Jimmy was shot, and the demons were given the order to kill Claire. She said "yes", and then there was pain. Burning agony inside her small body, making her wish she had been killed. The pain was harsh and real, but even worse, Claire felt herself being trapped inside of her own mind, unable to speak or make any movement of her own. It was as if she, thirteen year old Claire, was a marionette, and Castiel was the puppeteer.  
Suddenly, the pain was gone. A weight had been lifted off her shoulders, but another, heavier weight had taken its place.The physical pain had vanished, but it had been replaced with a dull, throbbing agony in her heart. And the pain seared when she was forced to watch her father walk away once again, possessed by Castiel, and probably never to return.  
And Claire had to find him. 

 

Jesse Turner was eleven when the Winchesters found him and destroyed his life. He was only eleven when he found out that he was the Antichrist, half human, half demon. He was eleven when he met his demon father who, at the time, was possessing the body of his biological mother. An eleven year old should not have the power to exorcise a demon from the body of his mother, and should not have to leave his adoptive family to protect them, never to return.  
After leaving his family without a trace, Jesse found himself in Australia, unsure as to where exactly in Australia he was. Living as a homeless child, stealing food and begging on the streets, the boy found his powers as the Antichrist to be growing. He constantly fled from cities and even individuals who tried to help him, afraid that he would cause harm or mass destruction. Jesse knew that he was capable of causing a minor earthquake simply by clenching his fists, and he clearly remembered being frightened and turning a man into a plastic figurine as a result. There was no option other than isolation in order to keep people safe, in his mind.  
With no family, no home, and no protection, Jesse could think of only one thing that could help him. More specifically, two people who could help him. If there was one thing Jesse was certain of, it was that he had to find the two men who started all of this. It was of the utmost importance that he found Sam and Dean Winchester.

 

Ben Braeden was nearly twelve when he and his mother, Lisa had gotten into the car crash that nearly killed Lisa. When the man responsible apologized, introducing himself as Dean, Lisa dismissed his apology and easily forgave him, but Ben could feel nothing but a blind rage, a passionate hatred of Dean boiling in his gut, and a thirst for revenge.  
Dean's face haunted Ben's dreams every night. When Ben would retreat to the nocturnal haven in his mind, he would relive the man's apology speech over and over. Each time, Dean's face would grow more and more familiar. The freckles scattering his skin. The delicate bone structure of his face. The dirty blonde color of his hair. But most of all, Dean's brilliant green eyes. It all seemed familiar. Too familiar...  
And then, the dreams changed. He and Dean were bonding on a park bench. Listening to AC/DC. Discussing cars and chicks. Dean was eating dinner with Lisa and Ben. He was commenting on the idiocy of "Plants Versus Zombies", claiming that a plant could never kill a zombie. Dean sending him to his room after he "Parent-Trapped" Dean and Lisa on the night of a date of Lisa's. Dean being the closest thing to a father Ben ever had. And then, Dean leaving.  
The dreams of Dean didn't end there, though. In Ben's dreams, Dean had a dark secret and a dead brother named Sam. He often spoke fondly about Sam and another man called Cas, but there was always a darkness in Dean's green eyes when he mentioned the two men.  
It was revealed to Ben that Dean hunted monsters, ghosts, and even demons. He had an arsenal of weapons in the trunk of his car, he lined the windows and doors with salt, and he was paranoid. So paranoid that he nearly shot the neighbor's Yorkshire terrier, thinking it to be a monster or demon. Then, Sam came back from the dead, and Dean left with his brother. Sometimes he visited Lisa and Ben, but soon, it was all over.  
That's when Ben and his mother were kidnapped by demons, and Lisa possessed by one. In his nightmare, Dean and Sam rescued the two, but not before the demon possessing Lisa stabbed Ben's mother in the stomach, nearly killing her.  
After that, Dean was gone. The dreams ended, and Dean was never seen again.  
Each morning after Ben woke from a dream about the man who hit his mother's car, Ben would ask himself if he was going crazy. The dreams were so vivid, they seemed like resurfacing memories rather than nightmares.  
Lisa also appeared to be dreaming about Dean. She would tell Ben about her dreams over breakfast, forcing Ben to watch his mother slowly be driven to madness by the dreams. One day, she gripped Ben tightly and swore that the dreams were, in reality, memories, and that their memories had been cleared of Dean and modified so that the two would believe that they were in a car accident. When no one believed her, Lisa was thrown full force into a state of deep depression. One day, when his mother didn't come downstairs for breakfast, Ben walked into her bedroom, but found that she wasn't there. He combed the house looking for her, calling out for her, and growing more and more panicked each time she failed to answer. Finally, he, Ben Braeden, found Lisa Braeden, his mother, the one person he had in this world, lying in the blood red water of the bath tub, her cold, dead eyes glazed over, and her wrists slit.  
After pulling his mother from the tub, Ben laid curled into a ball next to Lisa's body for a day, until her skin finally felt as icy and dead as his heart. Finally, Ben stood, called 911, stuffed his backpack with clothes, food, a water bottle, and his phone, and bolted. He didn't know where he was running to, but he knew that he couldn't go back. And he knew that he had to find the man who plagued his dreams. Dean. 

 

They met at a Supernatural convention, of all places. The books were the only thing that kept Jesse sane, as he had read every one millions of times. It was either a huge coincidence that the series was about two brothers, named Sam and Dean, who hunted monsters, or the Winchesters had a book series written specifically about them. The Supernatural books could have been Jesse's key to finding the brothers Winchester, plus he just found the series insanely cool.  
Jesse was dying to go to a convention, and the soonest one was later that day, in Indiana. Gathering what few belongings he had, Jesse teleported to a camp site a few miles from the site of the convention and slapped together a makeshift tent from a tarp and a few sticks. It would have to hold. By the time he finished, the time of the convention was upon him.  
It only took a second to get to the convention. Excited and eager to see all of the cosplayers, Jesse made his way inside the hotel where the convention was being held.  
Overwhelmed, Jesse felt his head start to spin. The world was spinning uncontrollably. It was only a matter of time before people would start to scream and he would ruin everything...  
"Hey man, are you okay?" A voice cut into Jesse's thoughts. Grateful for the distraction, the Antichrist turned to meet the owner of the voice.  
It was a boy of about Jesse's age, maybe a bit younger. He was shorter than Jesse, and definitely more muscular, despite his round, baby-like face. His chocolate brown eyes were filled with concern, but also determination. Of what the boy was determined to do, Jesse had no idea. The kid was tired. The Antichrist could tell by the dark rings under the chocolate colored eyes, similar to the rings under his own gray eyes. Also by the way the kid tiredly ran his fingers through his dark brown, slightly curly hair.  
Jesse managed a smile and nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay."  
"Good," the boy sighed, seeming relieved. He scanned Jesse from head to toe, before finally asking, "So what are you supposed to be?"  
Jesse glanced down at his clothing, before heaving, "I'm just a crossroads demon. Would you like to sell your soul for your brother's life back, Dean?" he added jokingly.  
The kid grinned widely. "Awesome! You knew who I am!" he crowed, gesturing at his leather jacket and dark green shirt.  
Jesse found himself rolling his eyes. "Well, yeah. I've read the books, remember? Now are you gonna sell your soul or not?"  
"My soul for Sammy's life? Sounds like a deal."  
"And you get ten years this time. Not just one."  
"Well thank god for that!"  
"Now we seal the deal with a kiss," Jesse murmured seductively, leaning in close, his lips parted.  
With a yelp, the kid shoved him away, crying, "No deal! No deal! Sam can stay dead!"  
A group of bystanders were watching the two teens, roaring with laughter, and Jesse could feel them watching. He knew that they found the show funny, and man, did it feel good to make people laugh. "Thanks folks! We'll be here all week!" he called to the spectators, causing them to whoop and cheer.  
Grinning at the Dean impersonator, Jesse clapped his hand on the kid's shoulder. "I like you!" he announced. Seeing the kid smile, Jesse steered him towards the bar. "Let's get some sodas."  
As the pair sat down at the bar, Jesse turned to his companion. "So, what's your name?" he asked, feeling stupid for not asking before.  
"Ben Braeden," the boy responded.  
"Jesse Turner," Jesse introduced himself, grasping Ben's hand firmly and shaking.  
"Hey boys," the bar tender interrupted. "What can I get for you?"  
"Coke," Ben answered automatically.  
Scanning the bar menu for the cheapest drink, Jesse finally settled on water, as it cost only a dollar.  
Sipping his water, Jesse asked Ben, "Do you wanna play Twenty Questions?"  
"What?" spluttered the other boy, nearly choking on his Coke.  
"To get to know each other. As friends," Jesse explained.  
Ben laughed. "The last person who I played that with was a girl I liked."  
Jesse shook his head. "Nothing like that," he reassured Ben. "Just humor me."  
"Okay," Ben began, "how old are you?"  
"I'll be fifteen in October."  
"That's only a month away!"  
"Yeah. Now it's my turn. How old are you?"  
"Copycat," Ben chuckled. "I turned fourteen in May. Now, did you ditch school to come to this convention?"  
Jesse looked down at his lap. "Something like that. Did you?"  
"Something like that," Ben echoed. "I've been looking forward to it for months."  
Jesse grinned. "I just found out about it today. I was totally psyched!"  
"And that brings me to my next question!" Ben declared. "How did you find the Supernatural books?"  
"I got the first few at a yard sale and fell in love."  
"Were you fucking the books because you were so in love?"  
"Gross!" yelped Jesse, gently shoving Ben. "Of course not, you perv! What about you? How'd you find 'em?"  
"Stop copying my questions!" Ben protested.  
Jesse couldn't help but stick his tongue out at the younger boy. "They say that mimicry is the most sincere form of flattery."  
"Yeah, whatever man."  
"Answer the question!" Jesse demanded.  
Ben sighed. "I googled some weird key words and the books came up."  
"What words, pray tell?"  
Ben stared ahead, took a deep breath and replied, "'Dean' and 'monster hunter'."  
Jesse gave a cackle. "So do you have a fetish for hunters named Dean or something?" he teased mercilessly. This was payback for the remark about his love for the Supernatural books.  
Ben's cheeks flushed a dark red. "Dude, no!" he cried. "There is an explanation, but it's kind of a long story."  
"Okay," Jesse relented with a nod.  
The boys questioned and teased each other for a little while longer, until Ben finally asked Jesse, "So, where are your parents?"  
The Antichrist sighed. He knew this question was bound to come up, and he didn't want to lie. "Well," he began carefully, "a few years ago, I ran away from home. Haven't seen them since--my adoptive parents or my biological parents."  
Ben fidgeted uncomfortably.  
"So what about you? Where are your folks?"  
"I don't have a dad," Ben muttered, "and my mom is dead. She committed suicide a few months back."  
Jesse fell silent, before tentatively placing a hand on his friend's shoulder and murmuring, "I'm sorry, man."  
"It's fine," Ben whispered. "It's my fault for bringing up the question."  
The convention ended hours later. For the first time in four long years, Jesse felt really, truly happy. Now, walking through the parking lot with his new friend, a pang of sadness hit him. Ben had told the Antichrist that he wanted to stay with him, claiming that two runaways would be more likely to survive together than alone. And no matter how many times Jesse tried to warn Ben that he was deadly, and that something bad would happen, the younger boy wouldn't budge. And Jesse knew that Ben would end up dead. Even after the boys had swapped stories, Ben wouldn't leave the Antichrist.  
Turning to Ben, Jesse felt that he had one more chance to save the younger boy's life: by convincing the kid that he was crazy. "Look, Ben," he started with a note of urgency tainting his voice, "You know Sam and Dean from the books?"  
Ben nodded.  
"Well, I haven't told you everything. I wasn't joking when I said I'm the Antichrist, half demon, half human. And Sam and Dean--they're real people. They tried to get me to come with them, but I didn't listen. I ran away. And I turned their friend into a toy. And I've been searching every where for them. I have to find them, Ben! I have to!"  
Ben sighed. "If you're trying to scare me away, it's not working. I know they're real. I met Dean. And I'm trying to find him too."  
Jesse blinked in surprise. 'Wha--?'  
"So," Ben continued, gaining confidence, "if we're both looking for the same people, we should look together."  
Before the Antichrist could respond, the earsplitting sound of skin slapping against skin rang through the parking lot. Both boys spun around towards the source of the noise to see a small statured blonde glaring defiantly up at an older man who was holding his had up to his cheek.  
"You're not Dean, I'm not Jo!" the blonde was shouting. "You're not being 'in character'!" she added, making air quotes with her fingers. "You're just a scumbag bastard!" The girl turned on her heel to stalk away, but the man roughly grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him.  
"Oh Jo, you don't mean that," he growled in a husky voice.  
Struggling, the blonde spat, "You really don't want to mess with me! I'm warning you!"  
Without further hesitation, the man mashed his lips to the girl's, swallowing her screams. The blonde's knee connected with the man's balls, and he pulled away in agony and disgust. That's when his fist collided with her face.  
Jesse watched in horror as the girl fell to the ground. He could feel rage rising in his gut, causing him to involuntarily grind his teeth together and clench his fists so tightly that his nails broke the skin of his palms. The earth trembled, and a huge crack appeared in the ground between the girl and the man.  
At the same time, Ben drew a gun from the waistband of his pants. "Hey!" he shouted, aiming his gun at the bastard.  
The scumbag turned to Ben and Jesse, smirking. "Nice toy, Dean," he jeered menacingly.  
Cocking the weapon, Ben snarled, "It's not a toy!"  
"Ben, no!" yelled Jesse, but it was too late, for Ben had fired, hitting the blonde's tormentor in the foot.  
The man howled in agony, and Jesse grabbed Ben, his mind racing. Now the police would be after them. Ben faced assault charges and potential jail time. He needed the Antichrist for protection. Jesse had no choice.  
"We can't leave her!" snapped the younger boy, breaking away from the Antichrist and racing towards the the blonde. Jesse chased after him, grabbed both of them, and teleported, dragging them along.  
The three landed at the camp site where Jesse had left his few belongings. Packing his clothes, Jesse slung his backpack over his shoulder and turned to the girl, demanding, "What's your address?"  
The blonde, who looked a few years older than the two boys, glared at the Antichrist. "I'm a runaway," she sneered. "My mom committed suicide." She whipped around to glare at Ben, who hastily tucked his gun into his waistband. "I'm guessing you two got similar stories."  
Jesse nodded. "Yeah. Look, we have to go. Do you guys have all your stuff with you?"  
"What makes you think I'm going with you?" the girl demanded. "How did you teleport? You caused the earthquake, didn't you? What are you? Angel? Demon?"  
"Angel?" Jesse asked, bewildered. "I'm an Antichrist."  
"A what?!" yelped the girl, a look of terror clouding her blue eyes.  
"Half demon, half human," Jesse explained. "I'll explain later, but we need to move!"  
"No way!" snarled the girl. "I don't even know your names!"  
"Jesse Turner," Jesse hurriedly introduced himself.  
"And Ben Braeden," Ben added quickly.  
The girl nodded slowly. "Claire Novak."  
"Okay, Claire. Now let's go!" Jesse practically screamed.  
Claire looked uneasily at the human and the Antichrist. "I have a job to do. I have to find my father."  
"We're looking for people too," Ben told her helpfully. "Sam and Dean Winchester. And they are real, by the way."  
"Of course they're real," Claire snorted. "I was hoping to find them at the convention. My father is probably with them!"  
"Is your dad a guy named Cas?" Ben asked suddenly.  
Claire turned away. "No," she replied softly. "Castiel is not my father. But if I find him, I find my dad. I'm seventeen, and I've been looking since I was fourteen."  
"So, we're all looking for the same people then," Jesse whispered. "You should really come with us. We can all be hunters together. Or something."  
After a long pause, Claire relented. "Fine. You win. I'll come."

 

Now, a year later, Claire was going to die. It was Jesse's idea to go on a demon hunt, for he believed that he could still exorcize demons. After one exorcism, Jesse was weakened so badly that he had been rendered useless for the time being. Claire didn't even know where Ben and Jesse were, much less how badly Jesse was hurt. 'Oh dad,' she thought. 'I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.' She felt herself slipping from consciousness, and then everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our original Team Free Will makes their first appearance!

The Impala rolled into the parking lot of an abandoned factory which, according to Castiel and the Winchesters' research, was infested with demons. Team Free Will was once again saving people and hunting things: the family (which included Castiel) business. However, just as Dean gutted a demon, viciously twisting the First Blade in its abdomen, he heard some one shouting his name. And it wasn't Sam or Castiel. Still, the voice sounded suspiciously familiar.  
Glancing from his brother to his angel, Dean saw that confusion laced both of the men's faces. "It's a trap," Sam declared assuredly.  
"That's Ben's voice!" hissed Dean.  
"What?!" Both Winchesters turned to stare, puzzled, at the frantic Castiel. "That's impossible. I wiped his memory! He can't--"  
"Obviously not!" Dean exploded at the angel, before charging towards the sound of the voice, leaving Castiel and Sam no choice other than to follow helplessly.  
Dean found the source of the shouting almost instantaneously. There on the ground, slumped over pathetically next to another boy who had a trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth, was Ben Braeden. "Ben!" Dean yelled, shaking the teen frantically while Sam and Castiel stood awkwardly behind him, watching. Actually, as Dean noticed, only Sam was watching. The trench coated angel was visibly bristling and staring at the other kid.  
"Dean," Ben said urgently. "They've got Claire!"  
Castiel turned visibly white.  
"Who?" Dean demanded. "Ben, what are you doing here?!"  
"I'll explain later," Ben snapped. "Claire has a tracker on her phone," he informed Dean, pulling up the GPS on his own device and pressing it into Dean's hand.  
Dean rounded on his companions wildly, and barked, "Sammy, stay here amd protect Ben and the other kid. Cas, you come with me."  
"Dean," Cas started, but Dean had taken off, following the GPS.  
When the hunter finally got to his destination, he had no trouble kicking down the door and charging in blindly. And that's how Dean, a Knight of Hell, and Castiel, an angel of the lord, were ambushed by two demons.  
After a brief tussle, Castiel managed to smite his assailant, but Dean's attacker was a far more experienced fighter. Pinning the Knight against the wall, the demon snarled, "So it's true then. Dean Winchester, a demon. Oh, how the mighty have fallen." Flashing his eyes black, Dean plunged the First Blade into the throat of his tormentor. Then he spotted Cas crouching in the corner next to a bloodied, unconscious girl.  
Bounding over to the angel, Dean demanded, "Come on, pick her up. We have to get the kids out of here!"  
Cas looked up at the hunter with anguish in his deep, blue eyes. "Dean," he practically wailed, "this is my former vessel."  
"What?" Dean spluttered, bewildered.  
"This is Claire Novak, the girl whom I would have taken as a permanent vessel, had Jimmy, her father and my current vessel, not stopped me."  
"Fuck, I remember that," Dean groaned. "Well, fuck me."  
"Dean, now hardly seems an appropriate time."  
"Didn't mean it literally, Cas."  
There was a pause, until Dean finally broke the silence by whispering, "So, what are we gonna do?"  
"It doesn't matter," the angel growled. "We just need to focus on getting her, Ben, and the Antichrist out of here. Especially since she seems gravely injured."  
"Hold up a sec--the Antichrist is here?!"  
"Yes," Castiel breathed. "He was the boy next to Ben."  
Dean ran his calloused fingers through his hair. "Shit," he supplied eloquently.  
"Indeed," Castiel agreed, slinging Claire over his shoulder. "We need to get back to the others."  
Dean nodded and immediately teleported to where Sam guarded Ben and the Antichrist. 'Jesse,' Dean's mind supplied helpfully. Castiel followed suite, and then Team Free Will plus three was off.  
Running into demons on the way out was to be expected, but this many? When they were nearly at the exit, a particularly cruel looking female demon attacked Dean. As they circled each other, the demon mused, "Well, well, well. Even as a demon, Dean Winchester is loyal to humans. And of course the angel," she added jerking her chin towards Castiel. "That is, of course to be expected."  
Dean lunged for her, his eyes black and deadly. Her startled shriek was cut off by the First Blade piercing her stomach. With an unhinged cackle, she spat, "Dean Winchester, you're a traitor to your own kind!"  
Dean ruthlessly pulled the blade out and bolted for the door, completely missing the look of terror on Ben's face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel knocks out and heals Team Free Will 2.0. Destiel ensues and Sam is not amused.

Getting the kids back to the motel without making it seem like the Winchesters and the angel had kidnapped them, as Sam quickly realized, was going to be difficult. With Ben not letting Castiel lay a hand on Claire or Jesse, there was no way for the angel to heal his former vessel or the Antichrist.   
The car ride back was hell. Ben was in hysterics, wailing about how he could remember Dean and how he had been searching for the demon for years. Jesse mumbled a few garbled words, trying to soothe his friend, but the Antichrist's poor state of being only further upset the other boy.   
Claire was sprawled, unconscious, across the laps of Castiel, Ben, and Jesse. Castiel, as he persisted to inform the Winchesters, was extremely uncomfortable with his former vessel, and constantly muttered under his breath in Enochian, refusing to translate when anyone asked what he was saying.   
When Dean tried to suffocate Ben's wails, Jesse's slurs, and Castiel's muttering by playing Metallica, Sam was done. Sighing, he put his head in his hands, plugged his ears, and waited for their arrival at the motel.

Upon reaching their destination, Sam leapt unceremoniously from the Impala, praising whomever was listening for the ending of the tedious drive. He then proceeded to take Jesse in his arms and stumbled to the motel room with Dean, who was carrying Claire, close behind. Castiel had already vanished along with Ben, presumably to the room. Sure enough, when Sam opened the door, he found the angel laying the unconscious form of Ben across a bed.   
"Cas," Sam asked uneasily, "uh, what did you do to Ben?"   
Castiel sent a withering look in the hunter's direction, before replying, "He claimed that he would refuse to let me heal the others without an explanation. I didn't have time to explain." Seeing the horrified expression on Dean's face as he dumped Claire on the bed beside Ben, the angel quickly added, "He's not dead."   
Sam dropped Jesse on the bed with his friends and watched as Castiel healed Claire and Jesse using his quickly diminishing grace.   
Sitting down beside Dean in the opposite bed, Castiel shook his head. "She's not going to be pleased to see me when she awakens," he said, gesturing towards Claire.  
Dean rubbed the angel's back reassuringly. "She probably won't blame her dad's disappearance on you."   
Castiel sighed, sounding troubled. "Another question is how Ben remembers you."  
Dean nodded. "That's what I've been hoping you could tell me, Cas."  
Sitting gingerly down on the desk, Sam snorted. "You guys are missing the big, obvious, number one question."  
"Oh yeah, and what is that?" Dean snarled.   
"Why are they here? How did an Antichrist, Cas's vessel's daughter, and an actually-not-amnesiac meet? Where are their parents?"  
Dean's green eyes widened, as he mouthed, "Lisa..."   
Sam frowned at his brother, but Dean's eyes turned black. "Who killed her?" the demon roared.   
"Dean!" Sam shouted, glancing at the unconscious teenagers. "For all we know, she might not be dead! Ben could've...I dunno...run away or something."  
"Sam's right," Castiel agreed.   
"Alright," Dean hissed. "But I don't like this. I don't like this one freaking bit! Team Free Will 2.0: one abandoned angelic vessel, one runaway with a crap load of daddy issues, and Mr. Antichrist over there."  
"It'll be fine," yawned Sam, stretching his arms. "We'll sort this out. Now we just need to wait for them to wake up so we can get the full story."   
Castiel frowned. "It may take some time for them to wake," he warned the brothers.  
Sam shrugged. "We can wait it out."

As it turned out, they couldn't. Hours had passed, and Sam felt so tired and bored that he might drop. At one point, Castiel had pulled his wings into corporeal form, giving Dean a source of entertainment in the form of grooming the ebony feathers. Sam had begun to surf the Internet. Dean and Cas migrated to the bathroom and the shower began to run. Sam found lolcats. Dean and Cas emerged, looking exhausted. Sam had watched several episodes of "Game of Thrones."   
At this point, Castiel was stretched out on top of the bed with the demon, his head resting on Dean's chest and his black wings furled around Dean, pulling him close. Sam had to admit, it was pretty damn adorable.   
Noticing the space at the end of the bed, Sam gave up. He left a note on the bedside table, telling the newly dubbed Team Free Will 2.0 to wake the human, demon, and angel if they woke during the night. He needed sleep. The hunter trudged over to the bed and collapsed on top of the sheets next to his brother. It was cramped, being a grown man and sharing a bed with two other grown men, one of whom had wings, but Sam was too exhausted to care. Instead, he closed his eyes, and let sleep grab ahold of him and drag him from the waking world.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire Novak is not happy about the current situation and Dean is protective of Castiel.

When Claire creaked open her eyes, she awoke to the sight of Ben and Jesse sprawled next to her, sleeping like children. Groaning softly, she rolled over and spotted a note on the bedside table next to her. Opening up the note, Claire read, 

To whomever reads this:  
My name is Sam Winchester. The name may sound familiar to you. That's because you've all met me and my brother, Dean, however brief the encounter may have been.  
Dean, Cas, and I rescued you from a demon infested factory last night. I don't know what you were doing there, but Jesse and Claire, you were badly wounded. Cas is an angel. He knocked you out and healed you. Ben, you were being belligerent, so you got the knock out too.  
Anyways, we tried to stay up and wait for you guys to wake up, but we couldn't. So we're on the bed across from you. Cas is the guy with wings. He's practically on top of Dean. You probably can't see me, because I'm on the other side. If you wake up before any of us do, feel free to wake us up.

Claire stared at the note that was clutched in her hands. Sam Winchester. Dean Winchester. Castiel. She had finally found them. Or really, they had found her. And bonus, she was alive!  
Claire's blue eyes shifted to the bed opposite her. The first person she noticed was her father. The tussled black hair, the way his spine curved into his partner, as it had once curved into Claire's mother. Even the trench coat the man donned was the same style as Jimmy Novak's.  
But Claire knew that the man wasn't her father. Mostly from the way huge black wings sprouted from his shoulder blades and wrapped around another man, who must have been Dean.  
Claire couldn't see Sam, as the hunter had predicted, but she assumed that he looked as peaceful as the other two.  
Claire knew she should wait until morning to wake them, but she wanted answers. And she wanted them pronto.  
"Ben, Jesse!" Claire yelled, loud enough to wake everyone in the room. "Wake up!"  
Bewildered and seeming a bit unnerved, the boys scrambled to sit up, but Claire watched with a smirk as the hunters and their angel groggily entered the waking world. As he sat up, Castiel's back was still turned to Claire. The blonde noticed as Dean too sat up, peering past the angel, whose wings had now fallen away from the other man. It was the first time in many, many years that Claire had seen the hunter's face, but she recognized it almost immediately. She felt Ben stiffen beside her and squeezed his hand reassuringly. On the other side of the men's shared bed, the man whom Claire could only assume to be Sam rose, tiredly pushing his long, sleep rumpled hair out of his face.  
Movement from Castiel drew Claire's eyes away from the giant, groggy man. Her eyes snapped over to the angel, and the girl was appalled at what she saw. The angel's enormous black wings spread as wide as possible, before stretching upwards toward the ceiling, and then rotating in, so that their inky undersides were parallel to the floor. It was almost as if Castiel was stretching, loosening taut muscles in his wings. The spectacle was intriguing, almost beautiful...  
But it couldn't be. Claire turned away in disgust. How could she possibly allow herself to be awed by the very creature that was possessing her father's body. She hated Castiel. Why couldn't he find another damn body? Another man without a daughter and whose departure wouldn't drive his wife to suicide? Why did he have to choose the body of a man with a perfectly good life? A family? A child?  
Suddenly, a low voice cut into Claire's thoughts. "Hey, the Rugrats are up," drawled Dean, and Claire turned and saw the smirk on his face.  
Leaping to her feet with her fists clenched at her sides, Claire shouted, "Where are we?! Did you kidnap us?! And why is he," she spat the word, jerking her chin towards Castiel, "here?!" A triumphant smirk crossed Claire's face upon noticing the angel wincing.  
"We brought you here to heal you," Sam explained. "You were dying."  
Dean, however, seemed to be beside himself with rage. His eyes were no longer green, but pure black. Claire knew that when Castiel was angry, he looked like an avenging angel. A warrior of god. All-powerful and practically glowing with a righteous fury. Dean was Castiel's polar opposite. Claire could tell from the start that there was something off about the hunter. He seemed sinful and tainted, so much so that there was something inhuman about him. And now that Dean was seething, Claire could see it more clearly than ever. Unlike Castiel, Dean did not have a holy wrath, but a murderous, unfathomable rage emanating from him. He looked wild. Feral. Cloaked in unspeakable evil. He was a monster. He looked as if he had just crawled out of hell.  
"Demon!" Jesse wailed, as Claire dove to protect the boys. Dean gave an animalistic snarl and lunged at them, gripping the bloodied jawbone of some sort of animal like a lifeline. In a swift, fluid motion, Castiel whipped a syringe from his pocket and stabbed it into the demon's neck, injecting a red, syrupy liquid.  
Dropping the jawbone, the demon stumbled to a halt, visibly calming before Claire's eyes. With a glare at the ex-angelic vessel, he growled, "Don't. Ever. Talk. About. Cas. Like. That. Again." Dean turned away.  
"I don't remember you being a demon," Ben stated, drawing in a shaky breath.  
"It's a new thing I'm trying out," Dean sneered.  
"It's a long story," Sam supplied helplessly.  
Dean ran his fingers through his choppy hair. "What the hell were you doing in that factory?" he snapped. "How the hell did you even find each other? Where the fuck are your parents?!" He rounded on Ben. "Where's Lisa?"  
Ben hissed audibly, and Jesse wrapped his arm comfortingly around the other boy's shoulders. The demon's eyes filled with dread. "Answer me! Where is she? What happened to her?" he demanded.  
"She's dead!" Ben spat. Dean looked as if he had been punched in the gut. "She remembered you! She remembered and everyone thought she was crazy! She remembered and she committed suicide!" He rounded on Castiel. "You were the one who took our memories, weren't you?!" Ben was yelling now. "Well, A+ job, buddy!"  
"I had other priorities at the moment," the angel mumbled.  
Dean fell onto the opposite bed, burying his head in his hands. Castiel sat gingerly next to him and wrapped an ebony wing comfortingly around the demon.  
"What about the rest of you?" asked Sam softly. "Where are your parents?"  
Jesse stared ruefully at the taller man. "You know that I ran away."  
Sam nodded somberly. "And you?" he inquired, turning to Claire.  
"My mom committed. Couldn't deal with the loss of my dad," the blonde sneered. "And my dad," she added, "well, he's right there."  
Castiel's head snapped up. "I am not your father," he growled defensively, bristling.  
"I know you're not, you winged freak!" Claire spat in contempt. "You're just the bastard possessing his body!"  
Dean started to rise, but Castiel placed a gentle hand on the demon's arm, pulling him back down.  
"Jimmy Novak's soul is in heaven," the angel tersely informed the girl, answering the unspoken question of whether or not Jimmy's soul was still trapped inside his body. "He was evicted when I became human."  
Claire opened her mouth to respond, but a warning glare from Dean shut her up.  
"Uh, guys?" Jesse's voice floated through the air. Every head turned to see the Antichrist, who was staring out the window with the drawn curtains pushed aside. "There are cop cars."  
In an instant, Sam and Dean were at Jesse's side, peering out the window. "Crap," Dean hissed.  
"Someone must've seen us dragging the kids in here," Sam mumbled.  
Dean whipped around, his eyes once again black and wild. "We need to get outta here!" he yelled urgently. "Now!"  
Castiel had already snapped into action, literally snapping his fingers and reporting in a clipped, martial fashion, "All the clothes are packed and in the Impala."  
"What about our stuff?" Ben demanded. "Our clothes and things?! They're still at our motel!"  
"There's no time!" snarled Dean, as Castiel lunged for Ben and tapped his forehead with two fingers. Instantly, Ben vanished.  
"What did you do to him?" Claire demanded, fear poisoning her and marring her blue eyes.  
"He's in the back of the Impala," Castiel reassured her shortly. He turned to Jesse. "Get into the car," the angel instructed the Antichrist. Jesse nodded understandingly, before vanishing.  
"I'm gonna have to talk to him about taking orders from strangers," Claire muttered under her breath.  
Castiel reached out to tap Sam, and the hunter vanished, presumably to the Impala.  
The angel proceeded to turn to his former vessel. "I understand that you have questions," he growled. "But they will have to wait." Without another word, he reached over to Claire and pressed his warm fingertips to her forehead. The next thing Claire knew, she was squished between Ben and the door in the backseat of the Impala. Sam was riding shotgun, muttering, "Come on Dean, come on..."  
There was a shout of anger from outside, and Claire turned to look out the window. In the parking lot, Dean and Castiel were standing back to back, Castiel's wings now invisible. The pair was surrounded by armed policemen, each pointing their guns. Claire could hear Castiel hiss, "All but the one speaking into the radio are demons."  
Dean's hand was clutching the jawbone that Claire had seen earlier. "Well," she heard the demon sneer, "it's about time I got that daily kill in."  
A gun fired, shooting Dean squarely in the chest. The hunter broke into a feral grin, touching the wound and staring at the blood on his fingertips. "That tickled." He then sprang at the policeman who'd fired the shot, jamming the jawbone into his throat. The cop slumped over, but did not flicker in the way that only a demon does when it dies. Dean, however, in all his black-eyed glory, did not seem to care.  
"Go!" Castiel yelled, Angel Blade in hand. "I'll hold the demons off!"  
Dean glanced at the angel, then promptly vanished and appeared in the driver's seat of the Impala.  
"You killed that cop!" Claire wailed. "He wasn't even a demon!"  
"He wasn't," Dean growled, turning the key in the ignition, "but I am. And he shot me."  
"What about Cas?" demanded Sam.  
"He's gonna be flying along above us," Dean replied, sounding confident. However, Claire could see in the rear view mirror that concern sparked in the demon's now-green eyes.  
Sam evidently noticed the concern as well, as he rushed to assure his brother, "He'll be alright. He always is."  
And then they were off. Castiel vanished from the parking lot as the Impala crashed though the wall of fighting demon and human cops, engine roaring as it ripped out of the parking lot and down the road. Dean was holding his phone to his ear, calling Castiel, no doubt, and Claire just stared out the window at the mess they'd left behind. The game was on. The hunt afoot. Her life had spread its wings and taken off. And she had been left to cling on for dear life.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel doesn't know what's up with Team Free Will 2.0, Claire wants to trade her body in exchange for Jimmy Novak's freedom, Crowley is fed up with being summoned all the time, and Castiel nearly hits rock bottom.

Castiel was flying unbearably slowly, and it was Dean's fault. The demon had not done anything to the angel's wings or harmed him in any way, but merely took the Impala onto a secluded dirt road in the middle of nowhere and insisted that Castiel fly overhead. And the car was slow.  
Soaring just a few feet above the tree tops, Castiel was prepared to disappear to some secluded area or at least to the bunker to wait if another car appeared, but as of that moment, it was just the Impala, and Castiel was praying that another vehicle would roll up. Because this was too damn slow. When the underside of one of the angel's wings scraped against the tip of a pine, leaving a red, ugly scratch parting the ebony feathers, Castiel had had enough. He had too much on his mind to deal with scratched wings. So Castiel flew as fast as he pleased and found himself atop Mount Everest.  
The angel was normally not bothered by the cold. He could regulate his vessel's temperature using his grace, but now, his grace was fading, and fast. Castiel struggled to maintain a comfortable temperature as fleeting thoughts of Claire, Ben, and the Antichrist flashed through his mind. Frustratedly rubbing his temples with his fingertips and squeezing his eyes shut, Castiel tried to concentrate on answering the most troubling question to him: how did Ben remember Dean? How had he failed? Sure, he had been preoccupied at the time with the Civil War in Heaven, but for Dean, he had tried to focus on clearing Ben and Lisa's memories. So how did they remember?  
Another thought that troubled Castiel was Claire. Her hatred of him was understandable, but how could Castiel let her walk to her death in a hunt when it was he who caused all of her suffering?  
And what was with all of the demons? First at the factory, then attacking in the parking lot...It was a possibility that the demons could have been attracted to the Antichrist, but why?   
All of these questions plagued and confused Castiel so much that, without meaning to, he caused a rather large avalanche.  
In his defense, no one got hurt.  
Okay, maybe a few climbers who had been part of a gang that raped and sold women into prostitution. But they deserved it.  
After a few more hours of shivering in the snow and pondering about recent events, a prayer cut into Castiel's hearing.   
It was Claire. Castiel listened intently in confusion as the girl prayed uncertainly, "Uh...I don't know much about praying to angels, but here it goes. Castiel, I deserve some answers." Her voice dropped to a significantly lower volume. "I don't want to say this through prayer, so please just meet me. We're at some sort of safe house and there are lots of books. And a Ping pong table. There's also a ping pong table. Anyways, the Winchesters won't tell us where we are, only that it's safe. Maybe you know where it is. Just please come." Claire stopped for a moment, before adding, "Oh, and Dean's pissed at you for not flying overhead. He says that you'll be punished. Which is gross. If that makes you wanna come here any quicker."   
Castiel ran his fingers dejectedly through his ruffled, snow speckled black hair. As much as he wanted to stay in this quiet place and retreat to the depths of his "mind palace", as Sam, a fan of BBC's "Sherlock" called it, he felt that he owed Claire the courtesy of answering her prayer and talking to her.  
Besides, Dean hated to be kept waiting.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 

When Castiel landed beside Claire with a flutter of wings, the blonde was watching a ping pong match between Jesse and Ben. A ball sailed over the angel's head, startling him and causing him to almost drop the pie that he had picked up for Dean as an apology, and Claire smirked at him. "So you heard my prayer?" she jeered.   
Castiel nodded, and Claire continued, "Good. We need to talk."  
"About what?" Castiel asked warily. He was in no mood for abuse from the girl whose life he'd saved. And also wrecked. But surely he had made up for that by saving it. Right?  
Claire crossed her skinny arms over her chest. "I want you to possess me and let my dad go."   
Castiel grimaced, remembering how it felt to possess the body of a young girl. It had been limiting and frustrating, and he had not enjoyed it. "It's not that simple," he sighed.  
Claire laughed incredulously. "What do you mean, it's not that simple? I'm saying yes! Yes already, now just do it!"  
"Have you ever considered that maybe angels aren't forced to possess you when you say yes?" Ben scoffed. "Maybe he doesn't want your body." He winked suggestively and Jesse snickered immaturely from his side of the ping pong table.  
Claire ogled at the angel for a long moment. "So you're saying," she finally breathed in frustration and fury, "that I can't have my dad back because he's being possessed by the most selfish angel on the planet?!"  
Castiel rolled his blue eyes. He couldn't help but notice the similarities between Claire's eyes and Jimmy's--they were practically identical. "Jimmy Novak is dead," he explained in a tired voice. "If I left this vessel, all that would be left of him would be a hollowed out shell. And eventually, you would become the same."  
Claire's mouth fell open. She gaped at the angel for what felt like an eternity, tears welling up in her sapphire blue eyes, and Ben gingerly wrapped his arm around her. Sorrow and regret filled Castiel's heart, but he shoved it aside. He was a warrior of God, and he couldn't let his emotions be shown to a child. Gruffly, the angel growled, "I must go. I am sorry."  
Turning on his heel, the angel stalked away and spread his wings on a plane not comprehensible to humans. The last thing he heard before flying to find Dean was Claire's shaky voice asking, "Do you think he uses my dad's body for gross gay sex?"  
Then, Jesse snorted. "Well, what is he supposed to use? His consciousness?"

*********************************************

Castiel had searched the entire bunker, but Dean was nowhere to be found. Dejectedly, Castiel set his pie down on the kitchen counter, when Sam walked in, humming under his breath. The angel whirled around, his trench coat billowing out behind him, and sighed in relief when he saw that it was only the hunter.   
"Hey Cas," the younger Winchester greeted Castiel easily.  
The angel shifted his feet, "Sam," he returned the greeting stoically. "Have you seen Dean?"  
Sam nodded, replying, "Uh, yeah. I think he went to the grocery store to get stuff for burgers." The hunter noticed the pie on the counter and smirked at Castiel. "Cute."  
Castiel glanced at the ground for a moment, before opening his mouth to retort. It was at that moment that Dean appeared next to Sam with a panicked look in his green eyes. "Dean?" asked Castiel, concern lingering in his voice.   
The demon looked wildly from the angel to his brother, hissing, "There are demons everywhere! This entire town is crawling with them!"   
"Whoa whoa whoa, Dean, slow down," Sam chided with a confused look on his face while Castiel remained stoic.   
Dean gulped for air, before explaining, "I was at the grocery store getting burger stuff, and every single freaking person I saw was a demon!"   
"How could you be sure?" asked Sam mildly.  
"How could I be sure?" Dean repeated incredulously. "How could I be sure? I could see their fugly faces! And not just their meatsuits--their real faces!"  
Castiel sighed. "Why are they here?" he growled.  
"Do you think they found us?" asked Sam earnestly.  
"How could they?" Dean snorted. "Charlie said this place is like a friggin' Bermuda Triangle!"   
Castiel cocked his head in confusion.   
"Charlie said she could track us to a twenty mile radius but not past that," Sam corrected the demon.   
"Why would a bunch of demons come after us?" demanded Dean.   
"Maybe because of the Mark," Sam suggested.  
Castiel sighed. "There's only one way to find out."  
"Yeah, and what is that?" Dean asked in a withered voice.   
"Summon Crowley." 

• • • • 

The first sign to Crowley that something was wrong was that the Winchesters were summoning him. Again.  
Pinching the bridge of his nose, the Crossroads Demon complied, appeasing the brothers Winchester by appearing before them. And found himself in a devil's trap. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" the King drawled.  
"Did you sic a load of demons on us?" demanded Dean, cutting straight to the chase.  
"Ignoring formalities per usual, Squirrel," Crowley sighed. He couldn't help but smirk when he noticed how cautious the Knight of Hell was being around the holy water that Moose held in his giant paw.  
"Answer the question!" Dean snarled savagely. Crowley found it a wonder the black-eyed demon hadn't lunged into the trap and killed him yet. Curiosity filled him, leaving him to ponder as to how Dean was controlling himself.  
"First answer me this, Squirrel: how are you controlling the mark?"  
Dean scowled at the ground, as Sam asked carefully, "What do you mean?"  
"I'm not talking to you, Moose!" Crowley snapped irritably. "Squirrel, why haven't you killed me yet?"  
Dean aggressively shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a large syringe filled with a crimson fluid. Grimacing, he injected the liquid into his neck in a violent stabbing motion. The Knight grinned maniacally at the trapped salesman.  
"Ahh," Crowley breathed in sudden understanding. "Human's blood. Very addicting stuff, that is."  
"And it's a good thing that it is," sneered the other demon. "It's the only thing that's keeping me from becoming a full fledged demon douchebag."  
"And it's not doing a very good job, is it?" Crowley remarked sardonically. "And I know about the little prats eavesdropping by the door, so you can come out now!" he called into the cold air, listening as his voice echoed throughout the room.   
"Come on guys, the game's up," muttered a male voice from outside, before three teens slunk into the room. A young blonde of about eighteen glared ferociously at Crowley, while two slightly younger boys stood behind her, staring at their feet. Crowley's eyes, however, were not glued to the girl, but to the older looking, taller, lankier boy. His soul was not the pure white of a human soul, but an ashy gray. "That's an Antichrist," he stated numbly, struggling not to fumble with his words in surprise. "That's the only Antichrist alive, and you've got it."   
'Of course they've got it,' Crowley reminded himself bitterly. 'They're the bloody Winchesters!'  
"Him!" snapped the blonde viciously.   
"Pardon, love?" Crowley asked.  
"Jesse is a person, not an it!"  
"It's irrelevant."  
"Crowley, why are the demons here?" Sam cut in impatiently.  
"They're attracted to the Antichrist," the demon explained.   
"What do they want with Jesse, man?" the other boy demanded, earning himself a glare from Dean for talking to the salesman, Crowley supposed.  
Crowley glared in disgust at the boy. "Believe it or not," he hissed at the Winchesters and Castiel, "There are those in hell who oppose my rule."   
"Supporters of Abbadon?" guessed Sam.   
"And Lucifer," Crowley added wryly.   
"Lucifer Loyalists," Dean chuckled. "You gotta love 'em. Even after seeing their god fail at starting the apocalypse, they still worship him."   
"So why do they want Jesse?" the blonde demanded.   
"Demons who oppose my rule want to start a revolution," Crowley drawled. "They've formed factions, and each faction wants their faction leader to rule Hell. The factions have formed armies, which are fighting each other as we speak, and every demon knows that the acquiring the Antichrist would be the game changing move that would ensure their ascent to the thrown."   
"So then you want Jesse too?" the great Moose asked slowly.   
"I want to whole thing to blow over, Moose," Crowley sighed. "Especially now that you morons have the Antichrist. But having him with me would be lovely."  
"That's not going to happen," a gravelly voice informed the Crossroads Demon. Suddenly, Crowley was staring into the piercing blue eyes of Castiel, who had appeared just inches from the demon.   
"One more player off the board," Dean drawled with a smirk from outside the devil's trap.   
Fear roiled in Crowley's gut, but he was powerless to do anything but squeeze his eyes shut tight as the angel smothered his forehead with the palm of his hand...  
Death, to Crowley, didn't feel any different from life. He could still feel the ground beneath his feet, terror quickly rising in his throat, and Castiel's warm palm on his forehead. Opening his eyes tentatively, Crowley saw the angel standing before him, gripping his head with a look of confusion and horror lining his face.   
"You don't have the juice to smite me," Crowley realized in sheer delight. "You can't kill me!" Confidently, he backed out of Castiel's grasp and turned on his heel to face the Winchesters plus three, who looked as stunned as poor Castiel. "I've given you what you want," he hissed cooly. "Now let me go manage my kingdom."  
Grudgingly, Sam stepped forward and broke the trap. With a small nod, Crowley exited the scene. He had more important matters to attend to than satisfying the Tweedle Dean and Tweedle Sam's curiosity. 

• • • • •

When Tessa Winters applied for a job at a local Gas n' Sip, this was not what she had anticipated. Now, she was sitting and reviewing security footage of the previous night, and weird shit had gone down.   
She watched over and over as a man with messy black hair and a trench coat appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the the Gas n' Sip at three o'clock in the morning, lunged at another man, and slit his throat with a blade that somewhat resembled a dagger. What was stranger still was that the attacker seemed to inhale some weird sort of light from his victim's slit throat, before placing his hand on the victim's head. Bright light shown from the victim's eyes and mouth, and then quickly vanished, leaving scorched sockets where his eyes had once been. The trench coat clad man collapsed on top of his victim, burying his face in the cadaver's chest and sobbing. He just sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, all the while tracing the words "I'm sorry" along his victim's skin.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which destiel ensues, angels are dicks with wings, and Metatron is a douche.

The first thing that Dean noticed when Castiel appeared sitting next to the demon on his bed was that the angel had been crying. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot, and tear streaks ran all over his face. If it were Sam, Dean would have glorified the moment and teased his brother for being such a girl, but this was Castiel, an angel of the lord, and Dean knew that he had seen some pretty serious shit without crying. So whatever this was, it must have been pretty bad. "Uh," said Dean intelligently.

Turning red in the face, Castiel turned away from the Knight, which made Dean feel even more crappy than he already did. He didn't know what had hurt the angel, but whatever it was, Dean was going to kill it. He just needed to find out what it was. 

Pulling Castiel into a bone crushing hug, Dean murmured, "Hey, hey, Cas. Cas, look at me. "

Castiel twisted around and stared mournfully up at the demon. "My apologies, Dean," he mumbled. "I will leave you alone, if you wish."

"No, Cas, wait!" protested Dean frantically,wincing at the harshness of his own voice and squeezing Castiel even closer, as if he could prevent the angel from flying off. 

Castiel, who had buried his face in Dean's shoulder and had pulled his wings into corporeal form for comfort, nodded. He wrapped the ebony appendages around himself and his demon, as if trying to shield the pair from the outside world. 

Gently stroking the angel's soft, dark hair, Dean choked out, "Cas, what happened?"

Not bothering to pull his face away from the demon, Castiel gulped in a hoarse voice, "Dean, I couldn't smite Crowley."

Dean paused, remembering the icy feeling in his veins that had filled him upon coming to the revelation that Castiel's stolen grace was nearly gone. "So?" he managed. "We can find another way to gank that little son of a bitch."

Castiel pulled back a fraction of an inch, "I'm not finished, Dean," he chastised scornfully, evoking an apologetic noise from the Knight. Instantly, embarrassment flooded the demon, but Christ, if anyone could weasel that noise from him, god knows it would have to be Castiel. "My grace was almost completely depleted," Castiel continued after a brief moment, "so I felt that I needed to restore it." After a moment of silence, the angel gulped shakily, "Dean, I was desperate."

"I know you were, it's okay," Dean assured the other man. "What did you do, Cas?"

"I stole my brother's grace," Castiel whispered. "And then, I killed him."

Silence fell throughout the room, but the spell was broken by a small wail from Castiel. Dean pressed the angel to him, holding Castiel's head to his chest. "Dean, I killed yet another brother," the angel sniffed, shattering Dean's already twisted heart into pieces.

"You had to," the demon told the angel firmly, "Castiel."

The angel and the demon clung to each other for a while longer, until Castiel finally whispered, "Dean, I took the grace of an Intelligence angel."

"So?"

"Their graces are not made to withstand combat. It will diminish quickly. I did not know until after I had taken it."

"Cas, what does that mean?" Dean asked carefully.

"I will need to take another angel's grace soon," Castiel admitted with a broken sob.

Dean gently pressed a chaste kiss to the angel's forehead. 

"Everything's gonna be okay, Cas," he promised. "You hear me? Everything's gonna be just fine."

Sobs wracked Castiel's smaller body, until finally, Dean suggested awkwardly, "Hey, uh, do you wanna sleep it off?"

Castiel pulled back and gave Dean a rueful look. "Dean, I do not require sleep," he admonished. "Nor do you."

Dean offered a small smile. "Nah, but I like to when you're here with me," he told the angel. "I'm already in pajamas," he added, glancing down at his tee shirt and boxers. 

Castiel nodded apprehensively, before mojo-ing himself (as Dean liked to call it) into similar sleep wear. 

Dean allowed his smile to widen as he pulled the angel down onto the mattress with him and under the blankets. Curling around Castiel, who had tucked his wings away into a metaphysical plane, Dean chuckled. The situation sounded like the beginning of a bad joke: "A demon was spooning an angel..."

"What is it?" said angel asked in confusion.

"Nothing," Dean promised. "Just go to sleep."

Closing his now-black eyes, the demon sighed in contentment. Never mind that demons were after Jesse and that Castiel was resorting to steal other angels' graces. All that mattered now was him, his angel, and the comforting nocturnal haven that enveloped both.

 

 

 

"Sammy, come on! Can we talk about this?" 

"Next time, think before you spoil the next Game of Thrones episode."

Dean glared sullenly down at the devil's trap that had been cleverly hidden beneath an assortment of books that had been strewn about. Looking back, Dean really should have realized that Sam would NEVER leave books lying on the floor. 

Sam made a move to exit the room, before Dean let out a wail so loud that Lucifer in his cage could have heard it. Startled, the younger Winchester spun around to face a smirking demon. "Dean, you're gonna be in there for two more hours, so just deal!" 

"Sammy, we need to talk."

Sam snorted. "No," he snapped, "we don't. Don't spoil Game of Thrones again, and this won't happen."

"It's about Cas!" Dean called in a last ditch attempt to persuade his brother to break the trap. He hadn't intended to mention his angel's stolen grace, but hey, desperate times called for desperate measures.

Upon hearing his best friend's name, Sam froze. "What about Cas?" the hunter asked slowly, dreading the answer.

Dean sighed. There was no backing out now. "He's," the demon began, pinching the bridge of his nose, "oh god, how do I say this? He's, uh, stealing other angels' graces."

Sam stared in interest and horror. "But why?" he demanded incredulously. 

"His first stolen grace ran out." 

"I know!" snapped Sam. "I saw when he couldn't gank Crowley, remember?"

"Dammit Sam, just listen!" the demon roared in a sudden bout of fury. Sam stared in surprise, but stayed quiet. "Cas needs his grace," huffed Dean. "He can't be human again, Sam. He just can't."

"So he's stealing other angels' graces," Sam finished confidently. The older Winchester nodded in confirmation. "Did he steal one recently?" demanded the taller man. 

"Last night," Dean confirmed.

Sam sighed in relief. "Then he won't need another for a while, right?"

Dean snorted. "Apparently he took from an 'intelligence angel', whatever that is." Sam made a small noise of approval. "Don't look so happy," Dean added darkly. "The grace he took will wear out faster."

"Why?" Sam interjected.

"I honestly don't know," the demon grumbled. "Last night he said some mumbo jumbo about the grace of a warrior like him being bigger than the grace he took." He was silent for a moment, then brightened. "It's kinda like a dick joke," he chuckled. "You know, mine is bigger than yours."

"Dean," Sam snapped in exasperation. He paused thoughtfully, before asking, "So, why does it matter?" 

"What?!" the Knight yelped. 

"Cas can keep on stealing graces and killing angels because that's one more enemy off our plate."

Dean stared. "And they said I was evil."

"Seriously, Dean," Sam sighed. "We already have the Jesse problem on our hands. We can't deal with an angel problem too."

Dean threw his hands in the air. "But we can't solve the Jesse problem with the angel up our sleeve preoccupied with saving his own life!" he pleaded.

"Dean, we don't have time!" Sam protested. "We need to find a way to fix the problem at hand! Besides," he added scornfully, "how do you propose we handle the Cas problem?" 

Dean grinned, knowing that he had won. "We pay a visit to Metadouche," he gloated triumphantly, "and we get Cas's grace back."

"Metatron," Sam repeated skeptically. "Isn't he in heaven's jail or something?"

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, so?"

Rolling his eyes, Sam groaned, "You're a Knight of Hell, Dean. You can't die, so how are you planning on getting into Heaven?"

Dean blinked in disbelief. Had Sam really just asked that question? Wasn't the answer obvious? "Cas is gonna take me, moron," he scoffed, mentally slapping Sam upside the head. "He bought the stairway, remember?"

Sighing in defeat, Sam turned to leave. "Wait!" Dean protested. "Where the hell do you think you're going, Sammy? You're just gonna leave me here?!"

Sam shook his head as he left the room, calling to his brother, "A few hours is the penalty for Game of Thrones, jerk!"

"Bitch!" Dean yelled after the  
hunter, but Sam was gone. Plopping onto the floor, Dean scowled as the ground and frustratedly pretended to stab it with the First Blade. Stupid Devil's trap. Stupid Cas. Stupid grace. Stupid Metadouche. Stupid Sam.

 

 

The first step to getting Castiel's grace back, Dean knew, was to convince the angel to take him up be stairway. This, as it turned out, was not the problem. Castiel had protested that Metatron had used his grace for the spell that cast his family out of Heaven, and therefore it could not be retrieved, but gave in very easily. It was amazing how truly sensitive an angel's wings were. Not that Dean had used the sensitivity Castiel's wings to coerce him into letting the demon into Heaven. Nope. Not at all. Castiel had only one condition in his taking his lover to Heaven: no First Blade.

The second step was to persuade Castiel to lift the ban on Dean's blade. This step proved to be trickier, as the angel was extremely stubborn about disallowing violence in Heaven. 

Which is why there was an intense staring contest being held between a demon and an angel which fucking everyone had gathered to watch. Ben smirked, while Jesse's cast iron gaze flickered from Castiel to Dean to Castiel again. Claire wore a poorly disguised look of disgust, while Sam rolled his eyes.

Dean knew that a few months ago, this staring contest would not be happening. At first, upon his demonic metamorphosis, Castiel had been too repulsed by the hideousness of Dean's corrupted soul to look at him for more than a few seconds at a time. Since then, however, he had grown to accept the demon. 

"Cas, how can you love me if my soul is fugly?" Dean remembered demanding while lying in bed one night, unarmed and unclothed.

Castiel had sighed. "Because," he had replied, "if you have loved a demon before, you understand that even if the soul is not beautiful," he had twisted around to face Dean, "it is not their fault. You are still the man you have always been, only slightly darker. You are still my Dean."

Dean stifled a sigh at the memory. If only Castiel was being that loving and understanding right fucking now.

"What about self-defense?" he suggested hopefully. 

Castiel tilted his head in confusion. "That won't be necessary, Dean. I will ensure that no angel will attack you."

"But..." the demon whined frustratedly. "It's like a part of me! The Mark and the Blade! MFEO!"

Sam winced. "Please don't," he moaned.

"What?" Jesse asked earnestly. "It's just text slang."

Sam cast the Antichrist a dark look. "Long story."

Meanwhile, Castiel's blue eyes continued to bore into Dean's green, staring past Dean's visage and into his twisted soul.

Finally, Dean sighed in defeat, glaring at the angel. "Fine," he shouted in exasperation, throwing his hands into the air. "You know what, Cas? Fine! Have it your way, but don't come crying to me when we're attacked by Metadouche!"

Without another word, Dean vanished, landing in his bedroom a few feet from the dresser where the jawbone was safely stored. Glancing around, the demon slipped the blade under his waist band and pulled his shirt down, effectively covering the weapon. Wordlessly, Dean's face slipped into a sulking scowl, and the demon reappeared next to Castiel. "Fine," he growled. "No blade. Cas, let's go."

With a worried glance at his partner, Castiel gripped Dean's shoulder, his hand molding perfectly into the handprint that had been left so long ago. Dean closed his eyes, and Castiel's wings gave one powerful flap. Then, they were gone.

The angel and the demon landed in a playground. No, the angel did not tell a virgin that she was pregnant. No, the demon did not attempt to persuade any civilians to sell their souls. Instead, the angel led the demon into the center of an intricate design in a sandbox. 'Real life,' Dean silently decided, 'sucks.' In the movies, there would probably be an epic showdown between Heaven and Hell when a demon tried to enter Heaven. In reality, the demon and the angel were lovers, and the angel was leading the demon to Heaven.

Suddenly, a shout rang through the air. Dean whirled about to see a young child and a woman wielding what he recognized to be angel blades, each bristling with hostility.

"Castiel," the child hissed, "what are you doing?"

Dean watched in fascination as Castiel dipped his head calmly toward the other angel. "Purah," he the black-winged angel stoically greeted his sister (or cross-dressing brother like Raphael. Dean could never tell). "Asariel," he added, looking over at the woman.

"That's a demon, Castiel," Asariel warned. "Are you really bringing him into Heaven?"

"For limited time, sister," Castiel responded, devoid of emotion. "We must speak to Metatron."

"But why, Castiel?" demanded Purah. "Why must you bring this abomination?"

Dean's fingers inched toward the First Blade. He didn't like where this situation was headed. Castiel was driving along a dangerous road, and it seemed like he was about to go over the edge. 

Castiel didn't appear to agree with Dean's thinking, for he smoothly responded to Purah with such cool confidence and yet such danger in his gravelly voice that Dean had to suppress a shiver. "He is an ally, and I trust him. We come only to talk."

Asariel seemed to believe her black-winged brother, but Purah had a spiteful glint in her eye, like a fire about to rage out of control. Her eyes, full of thousands of years of wisdom, and now anger, seemed extremely out of place on her vessel's girlish face, as if someone had photoshopped them on. "You trusted Metatron," she spat, "and look where that got us!"

In a flash, Castiel was standing a foot away from the child-cloaked angel, his sleek, black wings puffed out and extended in aggression, and although Dean couldn't see Purah's wings, he knew that they were being held in the same stance. The ancient eyes of both angels flashed with a terrifying, righteous fury, and each wore looks of pure rage. Dean remembered Sam talking about some Animal Planet documentary he had seen when they were kids. The younger Winchester had described two wolves circling each other before lunging at each other's throats. Even though Dean hadn't seen the documentary himself, he was positive that the two wolves would have looked like this. "Redraw," Castiel snarled with the ferocity of a lion, "the spell." 

Neither Asariel nor Purah made any move to indicate that they intended to follow their brother's order, and suddenly, Castiel's angel blade was being held to the soft, child's skin of Purah's throat. "Do not test me, sister," he warned. The child glanced wildly at Asariel, grace glowing like blue fire in her eyes, but her sister stared stoically back at her.

Breaking away from Castiel, Purah quickly traced over the design, and a bright white light swallowed the demon and the rebellious angel, bringing them both up the stairway.

 

 

 

The first thing that Dean noticed about Heaven was the jail cells. Castiel stood tersely beside the demon, staring dead ahead and making a point not to look at any of the cage-like rooms. "So this is where Gadreel served his time," Dean observed in a low voice. Castiel nodded. "Well," the demon chuckled awkwardly, "that sucks." Castiel remained silent. "This, uh," Dean began, "this is not how I remember Cloud Nine."

"This is heaven's jail," Castiel reminded him. "Not the Heaven where you have been." He began to stride down the prison hall, leaving Dean to follow. 

After walking in silence for what seemed to be eons, Castiel stopped short in front of a heavily barred cell. "You're dead," an eerily familiar voice stated. There was no shock in Metatron's voice, but only the classic angelic monotone. The scruffy angel wore a strait jacket, but did not struggle. His vessel's skin was dirty, and his hair and beard were wild and matted. Dean was aware now that what happened in Heaven could affect an angel's wings, whether corporeal or not, and though he couldn't see Metatron's, he could guess that they were a mess.

"Not really," he responded with a cocky smirk. The demon was well aware that Metatron could see the hideousness of his true face, but that didn't stop him from flashing his eyes black to prove his point. 

"I suppose Crowley didn't warn you about the Mark when you took it on," Metatron droned. "What it would do to you. And now look at yourself." Beside him, Dean felt Castiel's sleek, black wings bristling uneasily. "You're the very thing you've spent your whole existence hunting!"

"That's enough about me," Dean snarled, but Metatron continued. 

"Ah, Castiel," he breathed, gaining confidence with every word. "Your precious human is, well, not a human anymore, and you're still trying to save him!" Metatron chuckled maliciously, before adding, "You, Castiel, are the textbook definition of pathetic. Your life keeps on falling apart, and you still try to fix it." He paused, then continued quietly, "but you can't fix it, can you, Castiel? You just make it worse!" 

Dean felt himself seething with anger. He knew his eyes were black, and he knew that Metatron was simply goading him, egging him on, but while Dean was practically exploding, Castiel remained impossibly calm. "If it is I who is, as you say, 'pathetic'," the black winged angel said cooly, "then why is it you who is locked up here?"

Metatron looked stunned, and Dean seized his chance to ask what he and Castiel had come to ask. "So, dickhead, where is it?"

The imprisoned angel blinked, feigning innocent. "Where is what, Dean?" he asked. "Your head? I don't know, Dean. Try in your ass."  
He spat out the last words, and Dean took a deep breath, reminding himself that Castiel would lose the other angels' trust if Metatron was killed.

"Cas's grace," the demon growled. "You and I both know that you didn't use it all for the spell." 

"Oh, didn't I?"

"It's no use lying, Metatron," Castiel warned. "I watched as you poured most of my grace into that spell, and I watched as you tucked the rest away."

"Even so," snapped the crazed angel, appearing a mere inches away from the bars, his breath reeking of death and decay in Dean's face, "why would I ever tell you, Castiel, where it is?" 

This was simply too much for Dean. Enraged, he grabbed Metatron by the collar of his straitjacket and slammed him against the bars of his cell, snarling, "where the fuck is it, you punk-ass son of a bitch?! Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now!" 

Metatron's own grace flashed in his eyes, which Dean knew to be a sign of pure fury or pure terror, and in this case, he guessed the latter. "Adios," he growled, whipping the First Blade out and pulling it back, ready to deliver the final blow to the soft skin of Metatron's vessel's stomach…

"Dean, wait!" Castiel's plea rang throughout the prison. His black wings were bristling in with rage and were spread aggressively. 

"Yeah, I'm sorry I brought the Blade, Cas, but this son of a bitch has to die!" Dean snapped.

"I know what he's done with my grace."

Dean's gaze flicked from his lover to his soon-to-be victim. "Well, what the hell did you do with it?!" he roared.

"He consumed it," Castiel whispered. "I can see it in his eyes. If you kill him, you'll kill whatever is left of my grace."

"Very good, Castiel," sneered Metatron with a crazed glint in his eyes and a wide grin smeared across his filthy face. 

Castiel ignored the prisoner. "Dean, we need to leave."

"What?!" snapped Dean, upstarting. "We don't even have your grace back, Cas!"

"You said you would not bring that blade," Castiel hissed, "yet you did. We must leave."

Without another word, the rebel angel gripped the demon's arm, his hand molding perfectly into the print that he had left all those years ago, and the next thing Dean knew, they were back in the playground, Purah and Asariel staring at them. "How are we gonna get your grace back?" he demanded.

Castiel stared mournfully at Dean. "We can't," he rasped. "The only way to for the grace of one angel to leave a vessel's body when trapped there by the grace of another angel is by the summon of God or an archangel."

Dean closed his eyes, silently wondering why this had to be his life, because god dammit, this was not the life he ordered! "What the hell are we gonna do?"


End file.
